What's Next?
by Voyfan2
Summary: Post Endgame: Instead of a promotion, Starfleet hands Kathryn her retirement papers. So how does she (with a little help from Tom) answer the question of 'what's next' in her life?
1. Chapter 1

_**AN:**__ Cpt. Kallan Beyda's "Departure" got my muse to thinking: __How__ would K__J__ cope __if she were__ pushed out of the profession in __which __she'd spent her adult life? (A __situation that we at the Voyfan house … and many other folks … are too familiar with.__) __H__ow would she reinvent herself … with perhaps a bit of help from Tom? __  
_

_KJ, Tom and anything/anybody Voyager-related belong to CBS. Anything/anyone else is mine and it's all written for entertainment purposes only._

_XXX_

_Kathryn …_

_xxx_

Funny how I keep gravitating back here, to Daddy's den. Just sitting in his desk chair settles me …

It's spring now. The fields and pastures at the farm are starting to green up, something I'd longed to see many times during those seven years. Too bad it all feels flat.

XXX

After three months of hearing and debriefings, I'd gotten nearly everything I wanted: all charges against the former Maquis were dropped; Tom was free, as were Seven and Icheb.

The Doctor wasn't declared sentient, but Starfleet decided he was more valuable in one piece rather than as a pile of algorithms, so I suppose it was a win.

And finally, Starfleet decided that my actions were at least reasonably justified … though in some cases, they probably didn't want the PR black eye of a court-martial. I am, of course, the Federation's newest hero.

So they handed me a pile of medals and — surprise! — retirement papers.

I was incredulous and angry. Admiral Hayes apparently drew the short straw to tell me. He let the counselor do most of the talking.

"I'm sorry, Captain, your psychological evaluations were worrisome. While frankly, you weren't co-operative with your counselors, they did find indications of mental trauma and depression. Some of your officers' logs clearly indicate that you struggled with depression, not to mention several instances of reckless behavior. There are serious questions as to whether you could fit back into the command structure." He shook his head. "Psychologically, you're no longer fit for duty."

Hayes, that cowardly bastard, wished me luck and fled. The counselor … what was his name … Hobson, decided to stick it out.

"So, no retirement party? No gold pips?" I spat.

He just looked at me calmly. "I'll mention the pips to Hayes. You should get that much. As for a party, do you really feel like celebrating?"

"I suspect it would be more like a wake."

"Speaking freely here, you deserve better than that," he said. He leaned back on the desk. "Look, you truly accomplished the impossible. I … and a hell of a lot of people in the Fleet, admire and respect you for that. You've given more than almost anyone in Starfleet … maybe going back to Archer. Captain, if anyone deserves a rest, it's you."

"I would have liked to have made that choice."

"Would you have taken it?"

"Maybe not," I admit.

He nodded and gave me a small smile. "That was the consensus." He paused a moment to let that sink in. "You and I have about the same number of service years. I can tell you this isn't the Fleet you left. This isn't the Federation you left. What Fleet is asking of its officers right now … from what we see, you don't have that to give, no matter what you might tell yourself."

He ignores my glare and puts a chip on the table. "Starfleet can't order you into counseling, but I really urge you to find someone to help you navigate your re-entry. That's my vid number if you'd like to talk, or I could set up something in one of the health systems."

He walked to the door. "At least you have one advantage, Captain. This time you don't have to do it alone."

XXX

So, here I am, dumped by the organization that I gave my adult life to. Check that: add in most of the first 18 years, considering that I began preparing for a Starfleet career from the moment I crawled out of my crib.

Hobson's remark about not being alone is damned ironic, considering that last person to tell me that left, too. But perhaps being alone is a good thing. Fortunately, Mom is running a graduate seminar in North Carolina, so I have the house to myself. And Phoebe is too busy with her own work and family to babysit me.

While I make sure to answer their calls and put on a cheerful front, I've let the rest of the messages pile up. Right now, I can't stand to cheer any successes, or provide any support. And I sure as hell don't want to answer the big question: "What's next?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Tom …._

_xxx_

"Sorry sweetie," I whisper to Miral as I put down her bottle and punch the vid. "Daddy really needs this hand right now."

Seven's face comes on the screen. "Hello there," I say as I settle back in the chair and pop the bottle back in my fussy daughter's mouth.

"Lieutenant Paris."

"Stop with the 'Lieutenant,'" I mock-growl. "I left Starfleet, remember?"

"Tom," she acquiesces. She peers at Miral, who's still fussing. "Is your daughter unwell?"

"No, she's hungry and the bottle isn't where she wants it," I explain as I get Miral into a more comfortable position. "How are you? Still on Vulcan?"

"I am currently on Earth. I will be working on a project that the Science Institute has arranged through the University of Vancouver. It will involve a portion of the data that Voyager brought from the Delta Quadrant."

"Well, congratulations. Vancouver is a quick transport from here, so you can come for dinner once you get settled."

She considers for a moment. "That would be agreeable. Thank you." She pauses, as if trying to remember what to do next. "I trust you are well."

"Oh, fine. Squirt here takes up most of my time, but I'm working the Captain Proton programs. Making a version for my nephews."

She frowned slightly. "Have you talked with Captain Janeway? She has not answered any of my messages. The Doctor reports the same."

I sigh. "No, she's not answered my calls, either. I suspect that she wants some time to herself. She's been through a lot, too. And being forced to retire from Starfleet had to have been a shock." Knowing Kathryn, I suspect she's brooding.

"I believe … it was like my being severed from the Collective," Seven muses, and I'm surprised and happy to hear this level of empathy.

"That is a good analogy, Seven. She grew up in a Starfleet family; it was all she ever knew or wanted."

"But you also grew up in a Starfleet family; do you feel disconnected?"

_Oh, this is not something I want to get into today._ "That's a long story. I certainly felt disconnected the first time, and that led to … well ... But this time, let's just say I jumped, while she was pushed. That makes all the difference."

XXX

Afterward, I put Miral down for a nap and sit on the deck to muse a bit. I'm pretty sure Kathryn _is_ brooding, and I shudder as I remember how she isolated herself from us when we traveled through that void.

And while she's always been there for us, I suspect she's not about to ask for help now …

"So, Kathryn," I say as I get up. "Looks like I will have to go to you."


	3. Chapter 3

_Kathryn …_

xxx

I vaguely heard the door buzzer, but I was much too invested in my nap to get up for it. _Can't be too important,_ I decide as I roll over and go back to sleep.

Later, as I'm awake and padding about the house, I see something near the front door.

I crack the door, expecting a package. Instead, I find a flower … a yellow carnation. I bring it inside — April is still chilly here — and undo the accompanying note.

_Just came by to check on you. Miral and I would love to see you._

— _Tom_

For the first time, I feel guilty about my isolation. Of all my crew, I miss Tom the most. And I know he got a raw deal, too. B'Elanna got a full commission and a promotion. Tom was told he could keep his rank — on a provisional basis. As if he hadn't proven himself over the past seven years.

He told them to go to hell, a decision that cost him his marriage. Now he's raising Miral on his own. I'm touched that he came all the way to Indiana to see me, but I'm no real help to him right now.

XXX

The next day, I'm surprised to see another flower by the door: a Peace rose this time. I didn't hear the buzzer …

Another note: _Talk to me? _ No signature, but I know who it's from. I shake my head and put the rose in the vase with the carnation.

XXX

Day three, and I'm halfheartedly sipping at some broth when the door buzzer goes off. _Tom? _ I'm surprised by how that thought makes my stomach flutter … but still, I decide to ignore it.

A bit later, I peek outside and see another flower, this time a red tulip sitting near the front step. I'd barely stepped out on the porch to retrieve it when I hear, "So you are alive. I was worried."

I jump and spout a few Ferengi curses as I spin around. Tom's standing there, looking at me in surprise.

"Well, I'm glad I didn't bring Miral with me! Such language coming from her godmother!"

"You scared the hell out of me. How long have you been there?"

"Couple of hours, actually. I figured you'd eventually come out."

"Tom," I sigh, shaking my head.

"I miss you," he said simply. "I'm worried. I wanted to make sure you're all right."

"It's very nice of you," I begin, " but ..."

He ignores me and walks in the front door. "Hey!" I call, and he turns.

"Look, I've come all the way from Oregon. Could I at least use the bathroom before you throw me out? And maybe get a drink of water? It's kind of warm out here."

I throw up my hands. "All right ..."

XXX

I replicate some iced tea, and we sit in the living room, where he puts his feet up on my mother's coffee table. Oh, well, what she doesn't know …

"So how did you find me?"

"Your mom and my father still talk. I managed to have a civil conversation with him since it was about you."

"Oh?"

He shrugs. "Things are rocky again. It _was_ kind of ironic, having both my father _and_ my wife pissed at me because I didn't want a provisional commission. It was probably the only thing they ever agreed on. Anyway, when B'Elanna left, Miral and I got out of town."

Light dawns. "So you went to Oregon."

"Portland. My sisters are there, and they invited me out. Mom's in Seattle. They've all been lifesavers, especially since I didn't know much about babies." He looks down, then back up at me. "My sisters and I had some long talks. Dad didn't care about them joining Starfleet, but he did unload a different kind of crap on them." He clinks the ice in his glass. "They suggested that I see their counselor; she's been helpful."

I'm expecting him to continue about Oregon, but instead, he cocks his head and looks at me with tenderness. "Kathryn, I'm sorry that you're hurting. Can I help?"

He could probably hear my gasp. I could ignore the question, but knowing Tom, he'd sit all night if he had to. "Apparently, I'm beyond help," I finally say, my voice shaking. "Seems that after 20-plus years of wearing the uniform, seven of it making gut-wrenching decisions on my own … I'm now considered to be unfit for duty."

_Well, there … I said it._ And I'm surprised — and mortified — by the tears that start to fall. I try to stop, to put the mask back on, but I can't.

He's next to me in an instant and gathers me in his arms. He doesn't say a word as I start to sob, just rubs my back as I cry it out.

"I'm sorry," I finally say when I can breathe again. "It's all right," he whispers and plants a gentle kiss atop my head. "I suspect that's been a long time coming."

"Yeah," I admit. "I thought I'd cry at first … but I couldn't."

"Well," he whispers, "take it as a sign that you're starting to let it out." He pauses. "Do you have a counselor?"

"No," I say firmly. "The Starfleet counselors were too busy trying to disqualify me. I haven't … I can't trust anyone right now."

Perhaps wisely, he doesn't answer, and I pull back. "I'm a mess. Let me go clean up." I realize that I've soaked his shirt. "Can I drop your shirt in the refresher? I can find one for you to use."

He shakes his head. "It'll dry. Go ahead, I'll be here when you get back," he says softly.

When I return, I expect him to have another go at the counseling business, but he surprises me.

"You know," he drawls, "I think you're too sane to be in Starfleet."

"What?"

He leans forward. "As you've said, you've spent seven years making decisions, dealing with things most of those blowhards couldn't imagine, let alone cope with. They're probably scared of you: You won't fit in their little box and take orders. You can find a creative solution or kick ass when it's needed. They really don't know how to deal with that."

The absurdity of his statement makes me chuckle. "The Admiralty is scared of _me_?"

He gives me that cocky grin. "Hey, you faced down the Borg. That should scare anyone with an ounce of sense. And besides," he says with a wink, "you still can scare the hell out of me."

For the first time in weeks, I laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

_Kathryn …_

_xxx_

I figured that Tom's visit would be the end of it, but I should have known better.

A couple of days later, the door buzzed again.

And again… Again… And yet again...

I ignored it until I hear a distinct wail, which gets louder as I go to the door.

Outside, I find Tom kneeling on the porch, trying to comfort Miral, who is screaming for all she's worth. I open the door and nearly step on a large bag … a diaper bag, I hope, considering it's sporting pink bunnies.

"There you are," Tom says over the din, and to my shock, he gets up and hands me the baby. "Here, take her while I grab this stuff."

I'm not exactly an expert on babies, but I take her, gingerly holding her out. She's shocked to see an unfamiliar person and quiets down immediately, giving me a _"Who are you?"_ look.

"You have the touch," Tom teases as he puts the bags inside. He takes Miral and hands me a flower: a lily this time.

"Er, hello," I say.

"Hi. I wanted to take you to lunch, but I didn't have a sitter. So Miral and I brought lunch." He points toward a large shopping bag.

I'm glaring at him, but he ignores me. "You know, she's going to start screaming again if she doesn't eat soon."

_OK then_ … I lead them to the kitchen. Thankfully, he says nothing about the mess on the table as I clear off a space for food. Fortunately, Mom kept a baby seat from when Phoebe's kids were little, so I send him to retrieve it from the back porch.

No matter how I feel, it's hard not to enjoy a baby, especially given that this one is my goddaughter and namesake. When her tummy is full, Miral is quite a sociable child; her little forehead ridges wrinkle when she smiles, and she has a cute little chuckle.

"You know, I didn't hear about the divorce until after," I begin. Might as well get this apology out of the way.

"Well, things fell apart really fast after I declined the commission. Most people didn't know," he says.

"I take it you won the custody decision?"

"By default. The Hartnell's a small exploratory ship; no non-Starfleet spouses; no childcare available for kids under 5. So without me to split childcare ..."

"And she locked herself into a tour before she realized this ... or, let me guess, even talked to you."

"Yep, three years on a ship that's exploring the Gamma Quadrant, though I understand she can request a transfer after 18 months. She could have resigned, but there aren't many warp cores in the private sector. And it turns out a ship is the one place she feels most at home."

He shrugged. "In one sense, it's OK. When we thought we'd be raising her on Voyager … I made my peace with the possibility I could become a single dad. I just didn't expect it to involve a divorce."

I don't even know what to say, so I just shake my head. Tom shrugs again. "We manage to stay civil. I send her images and anything pertinent. She calls a couple times a week to talk to Miral, though right now, it's not much of a conversation.

"And I keep in touch with my lawyer, since we'll eventually have sticky visitation and custody issues. But right now, all's well."

I smile, half to myself, at that last sentence, but he notices. "You talk to any of the crew … besides me?" he asks casually.

"No. I haven't been up to it."

"Folks are worried about you," he points out.

"I'm not looking for pity," I say sharply. "And I don't want to hear that question."

"Oh, let me guess: 'What are you going to do?' or the variation, 'What are you doing?'"

I look at him in surprise.

"Yeah, me, too," he says. "To tell you the truth, I don't talk to many folks, either. I've had to distance myself from Harry.

"From Harry?" The idea shocks me.

"Yeah, he loves to ask that question … he's starting to sound like my father. I mean, isn't it enough to take care of my baby and get my head straightened out? It's not like we're in a damn competition."

"I don't know," I sigh. "It seems like my entire life has been a competition. One that I've miserably failed."

"I certainly don't see you as a failure," he says quietly, and I wish I could believe him. "Look," he continues, "you just got back from hell, more so than the rest of us. Is there some law that says you can't rest for a while … that you can't just be?"

"Just be?"

"Yeah … take a nap, read a book, watch the sunset. Take up knitting. Maybe some traveling. Do things you always wished you had time to do," he said with a grin.

"I already do some of that," I admit. "Not knitting, though. Traveling … I don't feel like setting off alone."

"Well, Oregon has some beautiful country," he says. "And you wouldn't be alone."

XXX

I'm not sure why I let Tom talk me into coming to Portland, but here I am.

Check that: I do know why. It's been nice to have his company; even nicer that he doesn't interrogate me. I also suspect that if I didn't come out, he'd continue to show up at my door. Hauling a baby cross-continent has to be hard on both of them.

He grins ear-to-ear when he sees me at the transporter stop. His bear hug feels good, and I return it.

"Glad you suggested a fleece jacket," I say as we walk to the transit station. He just laughs. "My sisters keep telling me it will warm up, but we're not there yet. I have to keep the house a bit warmer for Miral, though she handles the climate pretty well."

"Is that a baseball hat?" I ask. Between the hat and the bulky sweater he's wearing, I almost didn't recognize him.

"Yep, the Portland Pines. Seems folks out here got into baseball during the war. Kathleen's husband, Paul, is a big fan. The season's starting soon; we're going to some games."

**XXX**

I immediately like the neighborhood; lots of older architecture … lots of trees. And Tom's house is exactly as I expected. It's small, painted a soft yellow, with a short front porch and a low wooden fence around the yard.

"You know anything about gardening?" he asks. "Part of the lease is to keep up the yard and garden, but I've never planted flowers."

"Well, the last thing I planted was tomatoes," I say.

Inside, it's slightly cluttered, but comfortable, with an eclectic assortment of furniture. "Did it come furnished?" I ask after the sitter, actually Kathleen's stepdaughter, went home.

"Nope, Mom sent most of it, along with dishes and other stuff. I guess she cleaned out the house when she left the old man. "

I decide not to comment. Owen's family has a very different view of him than I do.

"Had lunch yet?" I shake my head. "I can fix something; any preferences?" he asks as he sits Miral in her high chair.

"As long as it's not leola root, I'm game."

"Well, I promise there's none of that in the house," he teases. "How about quesadillas?"

Afterward, I clear the dishes while Tom puts the baby down for a nap. "Make yourself at home," he says. "I've programmed that coffee blend you like into the replicator."

"You didn't have to do that," I say.

"Hey, you're my first guest," he says as he disappears into the bedroom. "I reserve the right to spoil you."

So, I unpack my things and take a PADD out to the living room. I sit on the couch, which is quite comfortable, and try to read …

A couple of hours later, I wake up with a start. The house is quiet, though I hear a low noise from somewhere.

"Down here," Tom answers my call. I finally find him in the basement, accompanied by Miral, who's gurgling from her playpen.

"A hololab?"

"Yeah, my one splurge," he says sheepishly, and I note that the program looks familiar. "Oh, come on, Captain Proton?"

"The one and only," he says, grinning. "Actually, I made a new version for Moira's boys. No damsels in distress, and a less-sexy queen," he says to my raised eyebrow. "The boys loved it. Moira wants to show it to some friends in the publishing industry, so I'm making a spec version."

I'm happy for him, but on the other hand, this points up just how unfocused I am. Tom notices and gently swats my arm.

"You know, I'm not holding my breath on this. If it does sell, great, if not, hey, it's a hobby. At least it keeps Harry off my back."

I chuckle at this as he shuts off the projector. "Moira tells me that opportunity will come along when you least expect it. Maybe there's something around the corner for both of us."

"Hope so," I allow. "Guess we just have to figure out which corner, eh?"


	5. Chapter 5

_Tom …_

_xxx_

What's the old saying, "time flies when you're having fun?" Because this past month has flown by.

And actually, we _have_ had fun. One thing about Kathryn: she needs to be busy. So I kept us reasonably busy. We hit some of the area's tourist sites … wish I'd taken an image of her face when she saw the ancient Rose Test Garden, which puts the Academy gardens to shame.

She was even a good sport about going to my mom's house in Seattle for Easter dinner.

"_That's a religious holiday, right? I didn't realize people still celebrated."  
_

"_Mom is religious, though it was lost on us," I said. "From what Mori and Kath say, it's just an excuse to have a big dinner and pump the kids full of candy." _

But most of the time, we did "normal" things: shop, take Miral to the holo-zoo, spruce up the garden. Even persuaded her to make a pot roast, which was really good.

It seems to have helped; she's more relaxed, and I see glimpses of her sense of humor.

_Dinner at the neighbor's, and I held my breath when Todd asked "What do you do?"_

"_Retired Starfleet," she said without rancor._

"_Tom says he was in Starfleet, too," Jep said. "That where you know each other from?"_

"_Actually, he flew my ship," she said with a small grin._

"_Was he any good?" Todd asked as he elbowed my ribs._

_Kathryn raised an eyebrow at the question. "Well," she said dryly, "we're both still here."_

But now she's talking about leaving … says she doesn't want to wear out her welcome.

I don't want her to leave.

We've always had an easy relationship, and having her around … well, hell, it just feels right … even if it's no more exciting than enjoying a beer on the deck at sunset.

Yeah, who am I kidding? I've been attracted to her from the start, but _those_ feelings got put away quickly: she was the Captain, and all she could take was my friendship, and even that was in small doses. But now, since I've had a chance to get to know her … I just want to get closer ...

And I worry about her being alone. She's better, but I hear her some nights, crying out from a nightmare. When I go to her, she's usually embarrassed.

And sometimes, she sits, just lost in thought . I realize she needs time to sort things out, but I'm afraid of what will happen if she's left with nothing but time to think.

XXX

I answer the vid on the second buzz. It's too early for B'Elanna or either of our moms to call.

"Seven, how are you? Settled in yet?" I ask when her face appears on the screen.

"I am well, and yes, I have," she says, not bothering with the pleasantries. "Have you been in contact with Captain Janeway?"

Kathryn's heard Seven's voice, and she's leaning against the kitchen doorway, shaking her head.

"I have," I say, "and I can help you with that." Kathryn sticks out her tongue at me, but comes over to the screen.

"Hello, Seven," she says warmly.

"Captain ..."

"Let's try 'Kathryn,'" she says, "or 'Doctor,' if you'd rather."

Seven looks at her, slightly puzzled. "I believe the designation 'Doctor' is already taken. But I would be … pleased to call you Kathryn."

"Thank you. And I apologize for not answering your messages. I needed some time to myself after the briefings."

She nodded. "I would like to speak with you about my project here. I was prepared to travel to Indiana, but since you are in Oregon, perhaps we could speak there."

Kathryn opens her mouth, but I cut her off. "Well, the dinner invitation is still open. Why don't you come down this week?"

"I cannot. However, I will be available next weekend. I should have more information available at that time."

We set a date and time and finish up. Kathryn's just looking at me, eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"I was going to leave this week. I don't intend to be a permanent house guest, you know," she chides.

"Well, I was hoping you'd stay with Miral next week while I see my counselor, since Kathleen is busy. And Paul's bought your ticket for the Pines' opening game this weekend. Besides, we should do something for your birthday … maybe check out those wineries in Washington."

OK, so the first statement is a fib. But the second statement is true. And as for her birthday, Neelix always made her a birthday cake; she should have that much.

She doesn't believe me, but her face softens. "All right, I'll stick around a bit longer, especially since you need help with Miral."

She heads to the kitchen, then turns back. "By the way, my dear. Not that I want you to take me out for my birthday, but if you do, don't you dare choose one of those places where the waitstaff brings out a cake and sings. I've never actually thrown a birthday cake, but there's always a first time."

XXX

_Kathryn …_

_xxx_

We're waiting on Seven to arrive. Tom's fussing with the old grill, and I'm fretting about Seven's current dietary habits.

"Maybe we should ask her to fix dinner," Tom teases. "All right, I get the point," I concede as I go back in to set the table. I'm a bit agitated because I know what the topic of conversation will be.

"Good evening," I hear her call. She's made her way to the deck, and is looking a bit apprehensive, like she's afraid we're going to hug her. But we don't, and she relaxes.

She looks good. Her hair is still long, and tonight she's wearing it down, with part of it sweeping over the implant on her face. Our meal is pleasant enough … we chat about Vulcan and Tuvok and her impressions of Vancouver.

After dinner, I get to the point. "So, you want to tell me what's going on with your project?"

My adviser at the Science Institute arranged for me to do a research project with a senior professor. My choice was a study that uses the data from the nebula DQN 47238."

"Refresh my memory."

She rattles off the statistics and stardate. "You had a particular interest in that nebula, as I remember. We took a shuttle out to observe it."

I think back for a moment. "I remember … I believe it is a good example of what will happen to our sun when it finally dies."

"That's not a cheery thought," Tom mutters, and I swat his leg. "Actually, I have some data on that in my personal files."

"That is fortuitous," Seven replies. "Dr. Pelack arranged for me to work with Dr. Baz at the University of Vancouver, as he is considered to be one of the foremost astrophysicists in the Federation."

"And …."

"And we are not compatible. We cannot agree on the focus of the paper." she said simply.

Oh, Lord. I can only imagine how _that_ went. "I have put forth your name as the lead in this project," she continues, "especially considering your personal interest in the subject."

"Yes, about that," I say, looking over at Tom, who smiles softly. Poor man has listened to me rant all week. "I've heard from Dr. Pelack about what happened." Actually, it's good that Dr. Pelack is a Vulcan … or perhaps he's just gotten used to Seven.

"While I can understand disagreement, it was not your place to suggest me or anyone else as a replacement lead. And it was a bad idea to suggest it to the dean of the university's School of Science."

"So I have been told. Then the only expedient thing to do is go to Vulcan. I'm sure Dr. Pelack would have no objections to our working at the Science Institute."

Tom's mouth drops open. _"Oh, hell no," I think_. "No, Seven. I'm not going to Vulcan," I say sharply. From the look on her face, she never considered the possibility that I would say no.

Tom deftly changes the subject, and later I hear them talking quietly. Whatever he said must have placated her. She gives me an awkward hug before she leaves.

"If you need advice, or want to kick around an idea, I'm here." I say gently. "But I suggest you talk with Dr. Pelack again. I'm sure the two of you can work out a research project."

XXX

"Thank you for smoothing things over," I tell Tom later.

"You _were_ a bit short with her," he remarks..

"I know," I admit. "But it took some talking to get the Vulcans to take her on. I fear she may be pissing it away."

"Well, this _is_ Seven, you know. Efficient, but challenging."

"Yeah," I sigh. And it could be that Dr. Baz is a total ass, and she's completely justified."

I pour us both another drink. "I'm just frustrated. She has doctorate-level knowledge in so many areas. And that served us very well on Voyager. But here ... she has no academic credentials . She can't get by citing data from worlds destroyed by the Borg. No one is going to accept it."

Tom's giving me a 'yeah, but' look. "I know, I pushed her into the Vulcan program. She needs the tools to use that knowledge, and this looked like the best shot."

And truth be told, it was the shot that killed any friendship Chakotay and I had left. He was less than pleased to be dumped in favor of the Institute. I'm sure he could have joined her, but I suspect Seven was having second thoughts about the relationship by then.

Tom shakes his head. "I don't really see her in academia."

"Actually, I don't either. There has to be a place for her, though." Otherwise, I think darkly, I should have let Chakotay space her. And isn't that an ironic thought?

He slides an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. "Finding a place seems to be the theme these days, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does."

Later, I lie awake contemplating the irony. Seven's not fit for academia; I'm not fit for command. So where the hell do any of us belong?


	6. Chapter 6

_Kathryn ..._

_xxx_

In the end, Seven went back to Vulcan. Somehow, I doubt she's learned from the experience.

But I should thank her: This reminded me that we brought back kiloquads of scientific material in every discipline. And before I left, the Federation government all but ordered 'Fleet to release the non-classified data into the public databases. It was a happy New Year for the universities and think tanks.

Which leads into my little secret: I didn't spend _all_ my time on Voyager reading reports or fighting hostiles. I squirreled away information: copies of logs and reports about scientific discoveries that interested me, along with any images I was able to take. Having that sweep of windows in my quarters came in handy.

Later, I'd read them and add notes: my thoughts, questions, possible comparisons to Alpha Quadrant phenomena. And of course, I kept copies of all my "away mission" reports, like the one about that nebula. Right now it's all sitting in a trunk at Mom's house. Maybe it's time I went through that trunk ...

XXX

I was a bit apprehensive about returning to Indiana. Mom is back, joined by her gentleman friend, James. I was afraid they'd see me as a third wheel.

But when I explained what I was considering, bless them, they proceeded to give me a crash course in how to navigate the current academic landscape. Mom took me over to Indiana University to talk with former colleagues in the science departments. James made calls to colleagues in North Carolina. By the end of the week, I had subscriptions to scientific journals, databases, and to services that could deliver any research paper available in the Federation.

I also had the names of attorneys who could help me navigate the legalities of publishing my material. Another reality of my new life ...

"You know, Katie," Mom said as she looked over my collection of PADDs and images, "you have the makings of a survey course here."

"I was going to say a book," James chimed in. "A textbook for sure, but I bet you could do something more general. Those images look pretty good."

"A holo-guide to Delta Quadrant astronomy?" I tease.

"Yep, for ages 6 and older," he teases back, and all three of us laugh.

This has certainly been an interesting side effect. It's been years since Mom and I have something to talk about for an entire week. Not that we were at odds … well, aside from the teenage stuff. But when I entered the Academy … and jumped into Daddy's world … Mom and I didn't have much in common any more. But now that I've landed in her wheelhouse, we've become quite chatty.

And all this is lovely, but something is missing: Tom. All right, Tom and Miral.

I thought that distance might be a good thing, at least for me. I didn't want to be the house guest who never left. But I'm also being a coward. Things had been heating up in our relationship. I hadn't realized just how much we touched each other … how that had progressed to hugs … and then that kiss he gave me at the transport station … I still hadn't caught my breath when I materialized in Indiana.

And damn it, I miss him … I miss _them_, even though we talk every night. And it seems that Mom and James are aiding and abetting the situation. One night, they were wearing IU fleece jackets; a present from Mom, which, oddly enough, matched the one she just gave me.

The next night, it was fleece shirts from James' school in North Carolina, with one waiting in Portland for me.

Mom just shrugged. "Have to keep that baby warm, you know." She raised an eyebrow. "Katie, there's no shame in wanting companionship. I can see that Tom has been good for you, and I suspect you've been good for him and the baby, too."

XXX

My mind wanted to continue to debate this, but in the end, my mouth — or maybe my subconscious — made the decision for me.

"So, you decided on how you're going to use that material?" Tom asked during a nightly call.

"I think so; still have to check on some things. But I'm ready to come home and do some work." I stop and I can feel my eyes widen as I realize what I've just said.

Tom sits back and gives me a soft look, then his face lights up in a smile.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," he said quietly. "But Kate, understand that when you come back, it won't be as a house guest. I want you to come home to us … to me."

I understand what he's asking. "Are you sure?"

He looks down, and I can tell he's trying to find the right words. "I'm not asking for anything formal; I'm not ready for that. But this is more than a casual relationship to me." He shakes his head. "Look … I think we're better together. I'm certainly better with you."

I blink back the tears. "I certainly feel like I'm better with you." And while I have some reservations, more about myself than Tom, the only truth I know right now is that home really isn't Indiana. It's with Tom and Miral in a little house in Portland.

I place a hand on the screen … a gesture that briefly evokes long-ago memories, and he does the same.

"I'll be home by the weekend," I say.

XXX

_Tom…_

_xxx_

I'd forgotten … or maybe I've never realized … just how much Kate can throw herself into a project.

She's spent the past month sorting through the reports and images that she brought back from the Delta Quadrant. They're sitting in three neat piles in a corner of the basement. And if she's not sorting, she's off perusing databases, or talking to her attorney.

"So what's she going to do with all that?" Moira asked me one day.

"Well, she says one pile is for using in research papers. One is for a prospective college course. The last one is for a holobook … sort of a general guide to the astronomy of the Delta Quadrant. She asked me to do the holograms for it."

_Actually, she surprised the hell out of me with that request. We'd just finished breakfast when she brought it up._

"_Honey … if I gave you a series of images, or even a couple, could you turn them into a full hologram?"_

"_I suppose so, though it depends on what you want," I answered_

"_James suggested that I put together a general holobook. I could do a basic one-holo-image with description, but I think it would be much more interesting if we could bring those images to life."_

Moira is impressed. "That would an interesting book. And it would be a great resume-builder for you."

"You know who you sound like, don't you?"

She winces. "I just happen to think you're very talented. And I haven't given up on getting one of my publishing friends interested in your Captain Proton stories. Having a book to your credit might get their attention."

XXX

Summer quickly ran into fall. Miral can pull herself upright and take a few steps if she holds on to our hands, so babyproofing the house has become a priority.

The book is taking baby steps, too. Kate has a general outline, and I've started the hologram for the first entry. This is trial-and-error for both of us, so progress is slow. I realized quickly that while I can do entertainment programs, this is very different. So I plow through tutorials while she writes and rewrites the narrative.

In the meantime — for fun, she says, but I think she was just getting antsy — Kate wrote a short paper about the subspace particle field around Kelemane, and how it caused the accelerated passage of time there.

It didn't get much reaction, though she got a nice note from the dean of the Academy's Arts & Sciences Division. Plus a note from Dad, who suggested she she apply for a civilian post at the Academy or elsewhere within Starfleet.

"I appreciate the suggestion, but I'd like to think I still have some pride left," she says as she shows me Dad's note.

"He probably thinks I'm corrupting you … that you'll never do anything productive again," I snark. She just chuckles.

"Well, I thanked him and added that we were working on a few projects. So I think we're both covered on productivity." She nudges my ribs. "And besides, I rather enjoy being corrupted."


	7. Chapter 7

_Tom ..._

_xxx_

Year's end has us feeling unsettled, for good reason. It's the first anniversary of Voyager's return. It's also Miral's first birthday, so the whole business pokes some old wounds. At least we won't deal with visitation issues: B'Elanna will spend Christmas on Bajor.

The unofficial Voyager message board, led by Harry and Jen and Megan Delaney, has been buzzing about a reunion. Harry's pushed the issue in recent letters, meaning he wants me to plan it.

"_You know, it's not a good time for us," I write back. "Besides, don't most folks have holiday plans? Especially since we spent last Christmas in quarantine?" _

"Hmm," Kate murmurs over my shoulder. "Just invite him up to visit. But warn him that if he stays over, he sleeps on the couch. Mom's here after the 20th."

It's funny, but in some ways Voyager seems like a long time ago. And while the crew is family … well, most of them … Kate and I have kept some distance. My counselor tells me that's part of the moving on process. But I think it's more complicated.

For me, as I said, there's an old wound. As for Kate, well, she doesn't like being reminded that she's no one's captain. She's softened a bit: she sends notes to folks with big announcements. We had dinner with Jen and Meg during their "road trip" to Portland. But the only one she talks with regularly is Tuvok, with Seven a close second.

As for me, I talk to Harry and Seven; occasionally post on the board … images or notes about what's happening at our house. And while Kate and I are open about our relationship, I know it puts off some people … like B'Elanna. So I save most of the images of Kate and Miral for family, or some very select friends.

XXX

_Kathryn …_

_xxx_

I look out the window … still raining. I'm not complaining; I got my snow fix last year in Indiana, though I'm told we'll likely see some here.

Besides, home is downright cozy. The fireplace is going; there's a nice jazz mix playing; and a pot of soup is simmering on the stove. Miral's toddling about with a push toy, babbling happily … so Tom and I are both working within arm's reach of the fireplace, despite the protective grate.

And the day brought an invitation from Phoebe: she's having an exhibit at an art gallery in Vancouver. Apparently, the exhibition will include my belated Christmas present: a painting from an image I took of that nebula in the Nekrit Expanse. She was taken by the colors, and asked if I'd like a painting. Not that I need reminders of the Delta Quadrant, but I'm touched by the offer.

"_If you want your present, come get it. Otherwise, I may decide to sell it," she teased._

"_Like I wouldn't come and see your paintings anyway?" I tease back. Phoebe's career took off while I was away. I owe her some sisterly support. _

_XXX_

Tom lets out a low wolf whistle as I walk out of the hotel bedroom. "Hello gorgeous!" he exclaims. I chuckle and step into his arms. "You are so good for my ego," I tease. "And you look very handsome in that suit."

"I only speak the truth," Tom says. "Moira was a big help with shopping. If she decides to ditch the law, she can become a fashion consultant."

XXX

_Tom …_

_xxx_

At the art gallery, Gretchen slides up to me and links her arm in mine. "I think it's a nice turnout," she remarks.

"It is … for a bit I was worried that it would only be family." And we are here in force: Besides me and Kate, we have Gretchen and James, plus my sisters.

"Katie seems more content," she says quietly. Ah, that's the real reason we're having a private chat.

"I think we both are," I say.

"Have you persuaded her to see your counselor again?"

"No, she agreed that we needed help to navigate the anniversary and the holidays. But otherwise ..." I shake my head.

Gretchen mirrors my head shake. "We mishandled so much with her. I think we all internalized Edward's distrust of Starfleet's counseling. I should have gotten her some private help after he died."

XXX

_Kathryn …_

xxx

"Well, Kath, what do you think?" Phoebe asks as we look at her painting of the nebula.

"It's gorgeous," I tell her honestly. And it is. She's softened the image and brought out a depth of color that the holo-camera couldn't capture. "I should have brought you with me to interpret our findings," I tease.

"No, thanks," she teases back. "Tropical islands are more my speed."

XXX

I circulate the room, trying to stay in the background. This is Phoebe's night. I hope I'm not news anymore … I've turned down all interview requests since I was "retired," but I don't want to take a chance.

The family seems to be doing OK. Tom, who can fit in anywhere, is across the room talking with a woman … he has that intense look he wears when he's puzzling out holocode … or a piloting issue. I'll be interested to hear about that conversation.

"I'm sorry, that's not for sale," I overhear Phoebe telling a fellow. "It's a gift for my sister."

"I assume you painted that from an image?" he says jovially.

"Yes, one of my sister's," Phoebe says offhandedly, and I groan inwardly. _That_ got his attention.

"I'd love to know where she got that image," he says. "I know a fair amount about nebulae, and that doesn't look like any I've seen from the nearby sectors.

_Well, crap. I'm going to have to step in_. I walk over to them. "Hi, I'm Kate, Ms. Wells' sister," I say.

He looks at me with interest. "That's from an image you took?"

"Yes," I reply, "and you're right. It's not from around here. Though I'm sure there are plenty of images out there … it's a tourist attraction."

He looks confused. "It's not real?"

"It's quite real. It's an inversion nebula, held in a dampening field so it doesn't ignite. It's been around for centuries."

Some sort of recognition flashes. "I recently saw a reference to that … it's in the Delta Quadrant. How did you …?

"That is a long story," I say lightly. I'm about to try for the graceful exit when he looks at the placard at the entrance: _Featured artist: Phoebe Janeway Wells._ "You're Kathryn Janeway. Captain Kathryn Janeway."

_Well, here we go. _"I prefer 'Doctor" now that I've retired. And you are ..?"

"Charles Baz. I'm an astrophysicist at the University of Vancouver," he says evenly.

_Oh, boy._ "I'm happy to meet you, Dr. Baz," I say, just as evenly. "Might I suggest we get a glass of wine and have a chat? I suspect there's something we need to straighten out."

Phoebe looks concerned, and I pat her shoulder. "It's all right. We have a … colleague in common. I'll explain later," I say softly.

We find a quiet corner and sit down. "For the record," I begin, I'm sorry to hear about what happened with Annika Hansen's proposed research paper. I had nothing to do with it; didn't even know until after the fact. We had a little chat."

"_That_ was the most jaw-dropping encounter I've ever had with a student. She flat-out told me that my theory was 'in error.' Dr. Chadrury says she told him that having you aboard would be 'more efficient.'"

I can't quite hide a smile. "Sounds like Annika."

"Has she always been like that?"

"Are you aware of her background?"

"Borg?" he ventures with some distaste.

" She was five, six years old when she was abducted. Learning social interaction has been difficult for her. Learning professional interaction apparently isn't any easier." He looks a bit skeptical.

"You know, she has a tremendous amount of knowledge," I begin, not elaborating on how she got it. "That knowledge helped our crew get out of the Delta Quadrant. I'm just trying to help her get the credentials to use it." I give him a wry smile. "But you know, there are many times she can be a royal pain in the ... neck."

He chuckles at this, and I see his expression relax. "Well, Doctor, let's just say I wish her well on her project. And you have my sympathy," he finishes, his eyes twinkling.

I figure we're done, but he surprises me. "By the way, I read your paper on Kelamane. I found it fascinating. Clarisse, my partner, is the department chair at Planetary Sciences … she said it created a buzz among her staff."

"Thank you. That was my first paper in a very long time. It's nice to know someone read it," I joke."

"Actually, she'd probably like to ask you..." he says turning around. "But she seems to be talking with that tall blonde fellow over there."

Well, one mystery solved. He raises an eyebrow at my chuckle. "That blonde fellow is my partner, Tom. So I think we might be forgiven if we joined them. Shall we?"

XXX

"So, what were you and Dr. Bishop talking about before we so rudely interrupted you?" I ask Tom as we head back to our room.

"Holoprogramming," he says. "She was telling me how she's using it in classes. So I have some ideas for that survey class you're talking about. Have some new tutorials to peruse, too."

Back in our room, he stops at the floor-to-ceiling window that dominates the sitting area. "Wow, that's quite a view," he exclaims. We're facing the harbor, and the contrast of lights and water at night is stunning.

"It is lovely, isn't it?" I say as I move next to him. His response is to slide an arm around my shoulders and pull me close. I relax into him instinctively. "Not as lovely as you," he whispers.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," I tease. We start to kiss … and well, we just never make it to the bedroom. Perhaps it's a good thing this room is on the 25th floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Hi, Mom,

Sorry we missed your call. Tom and I were out of town, but more about that later. Glad to hear you and James are enjoying your cruise. Loved the images of the Danube.

So, I'll start with the bad news. The IU and North Carolina publishing houses shot down my book idea. But both had some good suggestions, which I will consider. And Moira's publishing friends weren't interested in Tom's project. So, as Tom's brother-in-law puts it, we've struck out.

"_Well, so much for that," I said as I handed the second rejection to Tom._

"_I'm sorry, hon," he said. Then he gave me that devilish grin. "Hey, maybe that's our new calling."_

"_What is?"_

"_Maybe we're destined to become unpublished authors," he said with a grand sweep of his arm. "I mean, is there a law that says you have to be published to be an author?"_

_The idea was so crazy that I began to laugh. _

"_Think about it, Kate. We could write dozens of holobooks and programs and never publish them. And when we're gone, someone could dig them up and declare us the greatest undiscovered authors in the Alpha Quadrant."_

_At that point, I was laughing so hard that tears were running down my cheeks. There was definitely some dark humor in there, but at that moment, I really needed the laugh._

But for the better news … which is why we were away. You remember Dr. Charles Baz, the professor I met at Phoebe's exhibition? He called last week ... asked if I would be interested in collaborating on a paper about that infamous nebula that Seven was going to study. Invited us up to dinner to talk about it.

Turns out we couldn't agree on a collaboration, either. But we agreed to do separate papers, and he'll arrange a joint presentation at the university. So if you're interested, keep your calendar open for another trip to Vancouver.

_"So, do we have a project?" Tom asked as we went back to our hotel._

_"Looks like it. I certainly want you to do the holograms for the presentation. So I guess we'll both be published," I teased as I gently nudged him. Technically, I am published, have been for years. But I'm excited that Tom's work will get in front of an audience._

'_You are going to talk to Seven about this, aren't you?"_

"_Absolutely. I may have to take her on after all. But not on Vulcan."_

We also made a trip to Nevada so that B'Elanna could visit with Miral at her dad's house. Didn't go so well, but I'll save the details until we can talk. BTW, John and Liz send greetings. They say you and James are welcome to visit any time.

Anyway, have a wonderful trip. Tom sends his love, and please give James a hug from us.

Love, Kate, Tom & Miral

XXX

Hi Mom,

Glad you're enjoying the medical conference on Alpha Centauri. Of course, any info you can bring back about raising part-Klingon children is always appreciated (grin).

To answer your question, B'Elanna did get furlough to see Miral. She refused to come here; so we settled on John's house in Nevada. John and Liz say hello, by the way.

Think I mentioned that B'El refused my counselor's offer to talk with her or with her ship's counselor about easing Miral into this, especially since Squirt is in a shy stage.

"_Look, I may not see her every day like you and the Captain do, but she does know me," B'Elanna growled. "And I do remember how to change a diaper. I think I can handle my own child."_

Miral was really excited to see her Grandpa and Mimi. Even more excited to see their dog. (Which Kate is using in her lobbying efforts to get a puppy.) But while she'll wave and babble at B'Elanna on a vid screen, seeing her in person …

"_Hey sweetie," Liz said softly. "Your mommy is here to see you. Here she is."_

"_Hi, Baby," B'Elanna said just as softly. She was trying very hard to hold back tears. "Look at you … you are so big! Can you come and see me?" she asked, reaching out her hand._

_Miral took a step back and grabbed Liz's sleeve. "DaDa?" I knelt next to her. "It's OK," I said softly, making the appropriate sign. Miral turned back to B'Elanna and gave her a "Who are you?" look, then squirmed away from Liz and into my arms._

We tried a few things to help Squirt get comfortable, but no go. She finally climbed into Kate's lap, and that was the only place she'd let B'Elanna near her. You can imagine how _that_ went over, though B'El did manage to keep her temper in check.

In one sense, we both feel badly for her. I can't imagine missing the first year of Miral's life. On the other hand …

In other news, Kate's book proposal struck out with both the university publishing houses. She's taking it pretty well, especially since we've agreed to participate in a joint presentation of research papers at Vancouver U. I'll tell you the details later, but I'm calling it "Dueling Nebulas."

On a side note, Kate got a message from some admiral. Seems that 'Fleet has created a committee to design a memorial to Voyager's fallen crew. And of course, they'd be happy to have her join them.

Kate's reply was that the memorial should honor _all_ of Voyager's fallen, Starfleet and former Maquis alike. But she was sure that the committee could handle the details on its own.

All I can say is that it's going to get interesting once it's time to dedicate that memorial.

Anyway, enjoy the rest of the conference (any fun things to do there?) Kate sends her love, as do Miral and I.

Take care,

Tom, Kate & Miral


	9. Chapter 9

_Tom_

_xxx_

"Goddamn it!" Kathryn exclaims as the hologram refuses to come up on cue. "You'd think a university would have better quality equipment," she mutters as the tosses the controller at the desk.

We're at the university, where Charles and Dr. Chadrury have kindly allowed us to use the hololab to put the finishing touches on our presentation. The glitches are putting us behind, and we have to pick up Miral from the childcare center soon ….

She's cursing at something again, this time in Bolian. And while her multilingual curses can be amusing, she's definitely not herself.

The nightmares have kicked up, too. Nearly every night now, and they've gone beyond Voyager. She was aghast when I told her she'd been calling for her father and Justin. I got the feeling that perhaps there were other terrors in her closet she didn't want me to hear about … ones that involve my father and the Al-Batani.

But she's not inclined to talk about that … or anything else that's bothering her.

"Well, when I get famous, I'll build you a state-of-the-art hololab in the basement," I finally quip.

She half smiles and shakes her head. "I'm sorry … again. I don't know what's wrong. Must be the stress of putting this together."

I'm not buying it. I've watched her face dire situations without losing her cool. "I think it may have more to do with the time of year."

She winces, and I know I've hit the mark. This week marks the first anniversary of her forced retirement from 'Fleet.

"Maybe, if I'm lucky, this will give me a new set of memories for the time period," she finally says.

"Come here," I say as I pull her into my arms and she relaxes … or tries to relax into me.

In a way, I understand. Last month was a rough patch for me … the first anniversary of my divorce. I'm still not sure why it hit so hard … I'm happier with Kate than I ever imagined. But still …

XXX

_Kathryn …_

_xxx_

"_Poor Tom, he's been more than patient with me,"_ I think as I hold onto him. I honestly don't know why the anniversary of my getting kicked to the curb should bother me so much. I'm moving on. I'm happy with Tom and Miral … we have a presentation … Starfleet did me a favor.

So why the hell does this hurt?

XXX

A couple of weeks have gone by, and I'd begun feeling like myself again … until that damn message showed up ...

I made the mistake of leaving it open, and Tom found it.

"Starfleet wants you to speak at the dedication of the Voyager Memorial?"

"Yes, but I'm turning it down. I'm not even sure I want to go."

He sits and looks at me for a moment. "You probably won't like this, but I think _we_ should go … and you should give the speech."

I'm incredulous. "And why the hell should I give them the satisfaction?"

"This isn't about Starfleet. You're not doing it for them. You would be doing it for the folks we lost."

"I'm sure the families will be delighted to hear from the woman who got them killed."

"Everybody on that ship … and their families ... knew the risks when they signed on to Starfleet or to the Maquis," he says patiently. And frankly, if anything is to blame, it's the Caretaker that grabbed us. You … none of us had any control over that."

"Tom ..." I begin.

"Kate, I do get that you're angry, and I don't blame you, but Starfleet doesn't care. All you're doing is hurting yourself. Believe me, this is something I know about."

"Really," I say icily.

He finally blows up. "Yes, really," he yells. "They were our friends and crewmates. They served on _your_ ship, under _your_ command. You have one last duty to them … but won't do it because you're hiding behind your anger. You're going to leave it to some blowhard admiral who can barely find his or her way to the head.

"You said that we were a community, a family on Voyager. Is this how you treat your family?" 

I'm stunned. Part of me acknowledges that he's right … but …

My lack of a response exasperates him. "I give up," he says. He goes into Miral's room and brings her out in her stroller. They go out the front door without saying a word.

I sit and think … or rather try not to think. Finally, I get up and change clothes, packing a few more in a bag. I leave the house and head for the shuttle station.

XXX

No matter what's happening in my life, work has been my method of coping. So I'm not surprised that I've managed to get quite a bit done this afternoon.

Apparently I haven't been very good about hiding my mood: Charles has been by a couple of times, and has given me some rather odd looks …

It's starting to get dark … and of course, it's raining. I either need to get a hotel room or go home. I'd really like to go home, but I'm ashamed of how I've been behaving toward Tom … he has his own issues to work through, and I shouldn't be dumping on him.

What did I say once … "Starfleet captains don't easily succumb to fear." But even as a captain, I succumbed to guilt and depression. And now it seems I've thrown anger into the mix, too. And who knows what else will pop up, now that I'm not living on adrenaline.

Least I can do is apologize, I decided, and call home before I can change my mind.

No answer. That's odd. Maybe he's giving Miral her bath.

I call back in a half-hour. Still no answer. If he were out, his pocket vid would buzz.

I can't discount the possibility that he doesn't want to talk to me, but something seems wrong. I call our neighbors.

"Hey, Kathryn," Todd answers jovially.

"Hey there, I'm calling Tom but not getting any answer. Have you seen him?" I ask as lightly as possible.

"Hmm ... the light's on the kitchen. Let me ask Jep ..."

Jep comes on. "Talked to him about, oh, an hour ago. He was looking at the roof, said something was wrong with the solar collector."

"It's pouring," Todd says. "He wouldn't have gone up there ..." We all look at each other for a moment. "Let me go check," Jep says.

"I'm sure it's OK," Todd begins, only to be interrupted by Jep's yell. "Todd! Call the medics! He fell ... he's unconscious!"

"Call!" I order Todd. "I'll call his sister, and I'm on my way."

XXX

I make a couple of calls as I hustle to the transporter station. When I get there … Damn, it's early evening, and the place is jammed. Except for the Special Services line … Right now, I really wish I was wearing a uniform.

Then I realize: I do have a Starfleet ID that will give me access. One that marks me as retired. One that I had no intention of ever using.

I swallow and march over to the gate. The reader springs to life and scans me. The ensign manning the station makes a quick check. "Good evening, Captain. Where can we take you?"

"Portland, Oregon, please. City Medical Center. It's an emergency."

"Yes, ma'am," he says crisply as he peruses his screen. "The closest transporter station is within a block of the Emergency Room." I nod my assent and he waves me toward the pad. "The station staff can give you specific directions," he says before he sends me away.

XXX

After some anxious minutes waiting as the clerk tracks down Tom's location, I finally make it up to the surgical waiting room. Kathleen and Moira are there, as is Jep.

"He's out of surgery, and they say he's going to be OK," Kathleen says. "They let Mom stay with him in the recovery room."

"We just got back from Phoenix," Moira says by way of explanation. I sit, breathing a sigh of relief. "Well, good to have a doctor in the family."

I explain my whereabouts, omitting the argument that led to my going to Vancouver. We sit for a while longer until Julia comes out. "Ah, there you are," she says. "He's awake now. He had a skull fracture and a broken arm. Plus a mild case of hypothermia from being out in the cold rain.

"Anyway, the surgeon doesn't see any indication of brain damage. They're keeping him overnight, but we should be …."

She stops mid-sentence as Owen walks into the waiting room.

Both Moira and Kathleen gape. Poor Jep looks confused.

"I called him," I say. Julia just raises an eyebrow. "Tell you what, Kathryn; go on in. He was asking for you. I'll update the Admiral here ..."

I slip into the room, which is more subdued than I expected. A nurse points me toward his bed, which is surrounded by a privacy screen.

"Hey there," I whisper in his ear. He stirs and manages to smile. "Hey, yourself," he murmurs. "I didn't think … you'd come."

My heart contracts at that. "Hey, you don't get rid of me that easily. I love you."

"Love you," he manages before he falls asleep again. I kiss his forehead. "Get some rest; see you tomorrow."

xxx

Owen is talking with Jep when I get back. Julia and the girls apparently cleared out.

"Julia said he could come home tomorrow if the tests are all right," Owen said, "How is he?"

"Drowsy, but he seems oriented." Owen just nods.

"Do you want to share a hovercar?" Jep asks. "We probably should get back, since Todd is taking care of Miral."

"Yes, good idea." I look over at Owen. "Are you staying?"

"I was going to transport back."

"It's getting late. We have a guest room; and you haven't seen your granddaughter for a while."

He raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Well, Tom isn't home," I reply, and he shrugs. Jep still looks confused. I do have to explain some day.

xxx

At home, Owen shakes hands with Jep and Todd. "Thank you for helping my son … and for taking care of my granddaughter. If there's anything I can do for you, please ask; Kathryn knows how to reach me."

I'm trying to quiet Miral; she's had way too much excitement and wouldn't settle down for Todd.

"Hey, sweetheart, what's the matter?" Owen asks her gently. To my shock, Miral quits crying and holds out her arms. He takes her, rubbing her back until she falls asleep.

I hand him a drink when he comes out of her room. "Now, that was something. She won't go near B'Elanna, though she sees her on the vid. Maybe it's the family resemblance?"

"Maybe she just recognizes an old hand with babies," he says as he divests himself of his jacket. "And I think she's decided who her mother is. He looks around. "So this is where my furniture ended up."

"Oh, sorry," I begin, but he shakes his head. "I thought Julia dumped in the Bay. Glad to see it's getting some use." He picks up his drink and sits. "So, you were trying to call Tom from Vancouver?"

I end up telling him the truth. Whatever he is to his family, Owen has always been a friend to me.

"Well, I agree with Tom about the memorial, though I'm not going to try to change your mind. As for the counseling … I've read many of your mission reports. Frankly, given what you faced out there, I'm amazed that you, Tom, your crew … can function at all. It's a testament to your resiliency."

He looked me in the eye. "But can you command a starship now? Should you? That I don't know. I do think there are other postings that could sorely use your abilities and experience. Especially now."

He shook his head. "I've argued that you should have been … should be … reassessed after some medical leave and counseling. Unfortunately, Starfleet can be incredibly shortsighted, and you got caught in it."

"Well, thank you … but as far as reassessment, I think that horse is out of the barn."

I think for a moment that he's going to argue, but he surprises me. "Thank you for all you've done to help Tom."

"He's helped _me_ a great deal," I say. "I wouldn't be at this point without his support." It's my turn to look him in the eye. "He's a good man, Owen. He's made mistakes, but he's a very good man."

He just smiles. "When it comes to my son, I'm a slow learner, it seems," he says as he puts down his glass and stands up. "For the record, had I not been so resistant to counseling, I'd of done better by Tom and the girls. And I'd be going home to my wife and a fully furnished house. Be careful, Katie … don't let old ghosts ruin your future."


	10. Chapter 10

Julia was more than a little surprised to see Owen answer the door at Tom and Kathryn's house.

He motioned her inside. "Kathryn put me up for the night," he said quietly, "I'm letting her sleep in."

Julia's reply was halted when Miral came toddling in. "Hello, sweetheart," Julia said, sweeping the girl into her arms. "You having a good time with Grandpa?"

"She's been very good," Owen said, "but I bet she hasn't finished her breakfast."

Julia raised an eyebrow at the girl. "Let's finish breakfast while I talk to Grandpa, eh?"

Back in the kitchen, Miral resumed eating and Owen placed a cup of coffee in front of her. "You always were good with the babies," she said. He just smiled.

"She's giving me a workout; tried to get down the basement stairs. Nice basement, though; Tom has quite a hololab setup down there," he remarked.

"I've seen some of his work; he's very talented," Julia replied. "Moira is trying to get him published."

She stirred her coffee absently. "I owe you a belated apology," she finally said. He just raised an eyebrow.

"After the Al-Batani … when you wouldn't keep up with the counseling … you told me it would jeopardize your career. I didn't believe you at the time.

"I talked to Tom the other day. He and Kathryn are having problems. She's having a hard time with the retirement … and what she had to do out there. She tells him she doesn't trust counselors … that the ones in Starfleet are to blame for her being forced out."

"Actually, we talked about that last night," he said quietly. "I don't think the problem is the counselors' report as much as Fleet shortsightedness."

He shook his head. "She has so much knowledge and experience, and instinct about that quadrant, and they threw it away. Someday, one of those horrors is going to show up here. Let's just hope she decides to work with someone to combat it … because I doubt it's going to be 'Fleet."

XXX

_Kathryn …_

_xxx_

Tom was up and dressed when Julia and I arrived.

"How are you feeling, darling?" Julia asks as she gives him a clinical once-over.

"My head hurts; so does my back and arm," he says grumpily. She just nods and puts two fingers in front of his face. "How many do you see?"

"Two," he says resignedly.

Her exam is interrupted by the arrival of a staff doctor, who gives her an odd look.

"I'm Tom's mother, Julia Paris," she introduces herself. "I'm a pediatrician in Seattle. See a lot of concussions."

"I imagine you do," he laughs. "I have three boys myself," he offers as he does his own exam. Satisfied, he looks at his PADD. "Mr. Paris, your test results are fine, so you can go home, provided you take it easy. You'll have a headache and that arm will be stiff while the new tissue settles in. But it should just last for a day or so."

He picks up another PADD and a small case. "You staying with him?" he asks me, and I nod. He hands me the instructions, some analgesics and a list of things to watch for. He leaves us to wait for someone to come with the discharge documents. "We should tell you that your father is here," Julia says. "He's babysitting Miral right now."

Tom's eyes narrow. "And how did that happen?" he asks, looking at me.

"She did the right thing, Thomas," Julia says. "He should know if something happens to you or your sisters. How he responds is up to him. This time he decided to step up."

"Wait a minute … there's no way Miral remembers him. She's probably scared to death."

Both Julia and I start to laugh. "Not at all," I say. "She went right to him last night."

"And he did diaper duty and breakfast this morning," Julia added. "I wouldn't worry; Miral has him wrapped around her finger."

XXX

At home, Owen manages to keep Miral from crawling all over Tom, but doesn't say a lot.

"You know, Tom," Julia says, "I should mention that you're not the first Paris to fall off a roof." Owen winces at that.

She continues with a grin. "Right after we were married, your father had a temporary posting in Montreal. In winter. With snow. Lots of snow."

Owen sighs. "So much snow that the solar collectors were covered and it was interrupting the power. I thought, it's one story, I'll just go up and brush off the snow."

"Why do I think I know how this ends?" I say.

"You'd be right. I skidded off. Broke my ankle." We all chuckle.

Julia looks at the chronometer. "I should take the car back and head home. See if I can salvage any of my afternoon appointments."

"I need to do the same," Owen said. He looks over at Julia, and I can see him swallow. "You want to grab a sandwich at the transport station?"

Julia looks at him for a moment. "All right," she agrees.

After they leave, Tom looks at me. "Am I hallucinating, or are they really going to lunch?"

"It certainly sounds like it."

He's quiet for a moment. "So, are you staying or going?" he finally asks.

"I'd like to stay, provided you'll still have me," I say as I sit on the couch.

"I'm still a bit fuzzy … Mom said Jep found me because you called?"

I nod. "I called a couple of times; got worried when you didn't answer. I wanted to apologize for being such a shit to you yesterday … and before that. You didn't deserve it."

He doesn't answer, and I take a breath. "I've done some thinking … and actually had a talk with your father. It occurs to me that I _should_ stop trying to handle this by myself. That maybe I could use some help."

Something in his face softens, but his look is still searching.

"Your counselor seems to be pretty sharp," I say. "Think she could take me on?"

"We can ask," he says as he reaches out with his good arm and pulls me to him.

I gently settle against him. "I can't promise that I'll decide to make that speech … or that any of this will help."

"I know," he whispers. "I just ask that you try."

"The idea of baring myself to a counselor … I'm afraid."

"I know," he whispers again.


	11. Chapter 11

_Kathryn …_

_xxx_

It's showtime.

The university has turned this into quite an event. We've drawn a nice crowd for what Tom has dubbed "Dueling Nebulas." I'm told we're going live on vid, too.

Charles is giving his presentation right now; I've read his paper, and I'm impressed. But I'm confident in my research, too, and in my chief holographer's abilities. And I can certainly do a presentation: I've faced a lot worse than this audience.

My inner life … well, I wish I were a bit more confident. I like my counselor, though I balked at her suggestion that the Doctor prescribe something in the short term to ease my anxiety … and my nightmares.

But after a remarkable non-lecture from the Doctor, I gave in. The nightmares _have_ eased off, meaning Tom and I are both getting some sleep these days. As for the rest of it … well, one issue at a time, please.

Charles is finished, and after a brief recess so Tom can set up our holo-images, it's my turn.

As Dr. Chadrury gives the introduction and I prepare to take the stage, I'm surprised to realize that an old peace has settled over me: I'm the Captain, and I'm preparing to walk onto my bridge. My training, my experience and my command presence have returned like old friends.

The muscle memory takes over, and I straighten my spine and shoulders and lift my chin. And as I walk out to applause, it occurs to me that Starfleet may have taken my job, but there's something it can't take: the part of me that is — and always will be — a Starfleet captain.

When I reach the podium, I look for Tom, who's standing in the back, ready to start the holoprojector. I catch his eye; he looks at me and cocks his head. And just for a moment, Lieutenant Paris snaps to attention.

We smile at each other, and I begin ...

XXX

Tom envelopes me in a hug before the reception begins. "You did great," he whispers. "And it was nice to see the Captain again."

"You were great, too. Couldn't have done any of this without you," I tell him. And I _did_ enjoy being the Captain again, but I'm also very relieved that I _can_ relax into being Kate. Something to discuss with my counselor, I suppose.

Clarisse Bishop gives me a hug. "Talk about commanding a room … Kathryn, you need to give lessons!" she teases. "Just a heads-up," she says in a lower voice, "I think Dr. Chadrury wants to have a word with you two."

Next up are hugs from Julia, who, to our surprise, appears with Owen. "Darling, I don't know a nebula from anything," she tells Tom, "but your holoprograms were wonderful … very instructive." 

Owen clears his throat. "Well, I do know something about nebulae, and congratulations to both of you." He turns to Tom, who is physically bracing for snark.

"Son, I'm very impressed with your work on those holograms; they really added to the presentation," he said, holding out his hand.

Tom looks stunned, but he shakes his father's hand and murmurs thanks.

XXX

_Tom …_

_xxx_

I manage to catch Mom alone for a moment.

"So, what's going on with you and Dad? Did you have to drug him?"

"Thomas!" she chides. "You invited him."

"Kate invited him," I correct. "So what is this? First, lunch, now you're here together?"

"It's worse than you think," she quipped. "He met me in Seattle for brunch." She shakes her head at my frown. "Look, maybe I'm just tired of being angry. God knows I can't live with your father, but we have a lot of history. And believe it or not, we can enjoy each others' company. Maybe we can establish a friendship of sorts. If it works, great. If not, well, I tried."

"Does that mean I have to be friends with him?"

"Not on my account." She shrugs. "But I imagine he and Kathryn will always stay in contact. If you decide to let him in, just keep your boundaries up. Old habits die hard."

XXX

_Kathryn_

_xxx_

Clarisse didn't call it: Dr. Chadrury, outside of again offering his thanks, didn't have anything else to say after the ceremony.

But something interesting did happen after we got home.

"Another offer?" Tom asks as he looks over my shoulder.

"Uh, huh … this one's from a university on Hebet Prime. Pretty much like the others: Come develop a course for us and we'll give you a one-year contract to teach it. Or maybe it's a year to develop it and a year to teach it. Can't say that's enough inducement for me to live in the Hebet Sector."

"Thank god," he breathes and I gently smack his arm.

Actually, this is the sixth teaching offer/inquiry I've received from a university, including Vancouver. That offer is pretty standard, too, which is disappointing. Charles called to apologize … he's quite unhappy with Dr. Chadrury and the senior administration right now. We agreed, however, that it won't affect our friendship and that we would look for another phenomenon to "duel" over.

More intriguing are some of the other offers. "You know, the most interesting inquiries are from the planetariums; a one-off lecture, or a series of lectures."

"Well," he says as he grabs the other chair. "there you go; combine your survey course and holobook into a planetarium presentation … or a series of presentations. I'd have to expand the parameters of the holograms, but that shouldn't be too difficult."

He considers for a moment. "At least you would own the material. And I bet you could get a companion holobook out of it … planetariums sell stuff like that."

"True," I agree. "Guess I'm not sure I want the public scrutiny. Or to be running all over the sector."

He gives me a strange look. I give him one back.

"Who says you have to go anywhere?"

"What?"

"We can just create a holoprogram of your presentation and have it distributed to planetariums! It can play anywhere in the quadrant while we sit on a beach and collect the credits."

He pauses for a moment. "We may need a commercial production house for something of that scale … but think about it, Kate! It's perfect," he finishes as he gets up, kisses the top of my head, then disappears into the kitchen.

I sit back, slightly stunned. Leave it to Tom to come up with a brilliant idea. "Sure, we'll do a double feature," I finally chuckle. "Me … and Captain Proton."


	12. Chapter 12

_Tom …_

_xxx_

We have one more event on our calendar before we take a short vacation: A trip to San Francisco for the dedication of the Voyager Memorial.

Kate held out until the last minute, but finally accepted the invitation to speak at the ceremony. She's spent more than a few days frowning at a PADD as she composed her remarks.

The message board indicates that a lot of our former crew will be there, including B'Elanna, who snagged a short leave. She got an early transfer to the Gunnison, though she's vague about the assignment. But we still keep up with the news …

Understandably, she wants to see Miral, though I had to insist that she visit here: Our little tornado won't sit through a ceremony, and Vancouver taught us that she has to ease into new childcare situations.

She shows up with Chakotay. Maybe he came to carry the gifts she brought. She gives the living room a once-over as I take her out to the deck, where Kate and Miral are picking herbs.

XXX

_Kathryn …_

_xxx_

Tom and I swap places after B'Elanna and I exchange pleasantries. This should be fun: Miral's made a break for the yard.

I come in to find Chakotay perusing our display of photos … in particular, one of Tom, Miral and myself that Paul took at a recent baseball game.

"Can I get you anything?" I call as I set a basket of basil on the kitchen table. "Coffee? Tea? Water?"

He spins around like he's been caught at something. "No, I'm fine. Thank you, though."

I pour myself an iced tea and join him. "Been a while. How's Arizona?" Fortunately, Seven and Tom keeps me apprised of things.

"Fine … I'm enjoying my classes," he says somewhat formally. I just nod. "Anthropology, right?" He nods back.

"How are you?" he asks tentatively.

"I have my days, but overall, I'm good. Who knew retirement could be so busy?" He nods again. He doesn't ask for details, so I don't offer.

He pulls at his ear … my, he _is_ uncomfortable. "I ... actually, I didn't come along to give B'Elanna moral support." I raise an eyebrow; this is going to be an odd conversation.

"I'd heard you were here with Tom. But I wasn't aware of your work. Several of my colleagues saw the stream of that nebula presentation. I also found your paper on Kelemane."

A snarky comment comes to mind: _Oh, did you think I was just here so Tom could help me catch up on … Ah, never mind._ "That's nice to hear," I say instead. "Tom and I were very pleased with how the presentation turned out."

He pulls on his ear again. "The university is very interested in using our Delta Quadrant discoveries. The dean of the sciences school asked me to contact you. He saw the presentation and he'd like to talk about a survey course, or a seminar on some aspect of Delta Quadrant astronomy."

Oh, dear, the dean miscalculated if he thought he could use Chakotay to influence me. My ex-first officer looks like he'd rather face a resurrected Seska than deliver this message.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," I begin. "But I am looking at several things right now, both in and out of teaching." Not that he needs to know, but I'm leaning toward a planetarium lecture or two — just to see if we _can_ pull off a holo-presentation.

He looks surprised, but quickly reins it in. Interesting: perhaps my life doesn't match what he's been led to believe?Or is that what he _wants_ to believe?

"And there's a development in one of Tom's projects," I add, just to be devilish_._ "But please give me the dean's contact information; I'll call when we get back from our trip."

I wasn't lying about Tom's project. Earlier this week, he was contacted by a rep at a small publishing house in Seattle. Turns out she knows one of Moira's publishing friends, who mentioned Captain Proton. So, he and Moira have set up a meeting in Seattle. With any luck ...

XXX

It turned out to be a short visit. They snapped a few images of Miral and declined our lunch invitation. When they left, Tom and I looked at each other and shrugged.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have mentioned that I made the soup. I _did_ have a reputation back on Voyager."

He just laughs. "Well, that was with replicators. You just needed some real food to work with. How was your visit with Chakotay?"

"Awkward," I reply, "but he mentioned that his university was interested in our doing a class for them, too."

"Tell him to stand in line," Tom smirks. "Unless you want to do it just to annoy him."

"Honey, I think I've _already_ managed to do that," I say.

XXX

_Tom _

_xxx_

Starfleet Headquarters doesn't change a lot, it seems. I'm feeling rather neutral about being here again; Kate is hanging on to my hand rather tightly.

We were escorted by a couple of cadets, who've herded the former senior staff into a room to await the ceremony. So we stand around, a few of us having quiet conversations.

Kate has chosen a dark blue dress for the occasion … it's very professional, and she wears it well. But she's sending a message: this is not what a retired Starfleet officer wears to this event. Tuvok apparently is on the same page: he's opted for traditional Vulcan garb.

Admiral Hayes apparently pissed off someone — he was sent to greet us. He's obviously surprised by Kate and Tuvok's clothing choices.

"Captain, Commander … it is customary for retired officers to wear uniforms on these occasions."

His equally nervous aide steps up. "We have time to get uniforms and decorations for both of you. I'll just call a Quartermaster …."

Kate gives Hayes an icy look. "Admiral, I believe _you_ were the one who told me that I was no longer fit to wear the uniform," she says.

Hayes' face turns crimson. His aide is too stunned to close his mouth. Behind me, I hear Chakotay trying to suppress a guffaw. I'm having a hard time keeping a straight face.

Tuvok raises an eyebrow. "I am quite comfortable, but thank you for your concern."

On stage, we ignore the ensign who tries to direct us and sit according to our current allegiances: Kate, me, Tuvok, Harry, Doc, B'Elanna and Chakotay. I note that only three of us are in uniform; I see even more civilian clothes among the crew who's joined us today.

A flag admiral who I can't place gives the welcome and introductions, and then it's Kate's turn.

"Eighteen months ago, Voyager was welcomed back from its journey through the Delta Quadrant. Today, we honor those who were part of that journey, but could not finish it.

"I am grateful to see that this memorial holds the names of all our crew, both Starfleet and former Maquis. We truly were one crew, and all of the people named here were serving on a Starfleet vessel, wearing a Starfleet uniform when fate decreed that they make the ultimate sacrifice.

"But I don't want to remember our fallen comrades just for their sacrifice, just as names on a memorial. I'd like to remember them … I'd like _all of us _to remember them … as the people they were. The people who fought side-by-side with us, worked side-by-side with us, and yes, even disagreed and argued with us at times.

"I want us to remember them for the friendship they offered, for the times we spent with them on shore leave and in the holodecks. And for the times we spent in the Mess Hall, reveling in the joys of leola root."

That line brought down the house. Every member of the crew gave her a standing ovation as the audience erupted in laughter. Kate looked over at me and winked.

"I would like to take a moment," she continued when the applause died down, "to also remember those who joined us during the journey and left us for other reasons.

"Kes, whose evolution took her from us too soon. We remember her gentleness, her sense of wonder, her compassion. We hope she found the peace she was looking for.

"The irrepressible Mr. Neelix ..." She paused as the applause erupted again. "Our cook, our morale officer, our ambassador, our guide … our friend. He left us to join his people, and to have a family of his own. We wish him godspeed, and all the happiness in the galaxy.

"Azan and Rebi, Mezoti, and an infant whose true name we never learned. We rescued them from the Borg; they went on to live with families who we hope love them as much as we grew to.

"In short, this memorial is a wonderful tribute, but I think the real tribute is to remember our comrades as part of our Voyager family. And while we miss them, we are the richer for having known them.

"And as long as any of us remember them, they _will_ be with us. Thank you ..."

XXX

"You did good," I whisper when we get off the stage. Her reply is interrupted by the arrival of the Doc, who has Reg Barkley in tow.

"I thought you might like to know that Reg has re-established contact with the Talaxian colony. We had the opportunity to speak to Mr. Neelix."

"Really?" Kate is beaming. "How is he?"

"Very well. He's a new father … a little girl." He harrumphed a bit … "Mr. Neelix was distressed to learn of the circumstances of your retirement."

I groan inwardly. Like Kate needs another reminder. "Well, I'm sorry that I couldn't talk with him," she says.

"Oh, but you can," Reg interjects. "We re-established the link using a subspace field. If you have a subspace receiver, you can call him."

"We do have one of those," I allow.

"Excellent," Reg says, offering her a chip. "This has Neelix's code, plus an upgrade to your receiver just in case you can't access that particular subspace band.

XXX

They no sooner leave than Harry comes bounding up. He shakes my hand and gives Kate a hug.

"You're coming to Barney's, right?"

"We'll have to catch up with you," Kate says. "Our parents are here; we're having early dinner."

Harry looks at me. "Both your parents?" I nod. "At the same table?"

I shrug. "What can I say? Apparently cracking my head caused a miracle to happen."

Harry leaves, and we're looking for Gretchen and James when we're stopped by a reporter and vid operator from the Fed News Service.

"Captain Janeway, that was a very moving speech. Can you tell us what this day means to you?"

"I prefer Doctor Janeway," she begins as she loops her arm through mine and gives a PR-ish statement.

"There's talk that Starfleet is bringing you in as a consultant in regards to the current Beta Quadrant situation. Can you confirm that?"

We look at each other, then back at the reporter. "This is the first I've heard of it," Kate says.

The reporter's face falls … I think she just lost her story. "Do you see yourself working with Starfleet in the near future?" she asks hopefully.

Kate shakes her head. "No, I don't," she says pleasantly. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

"A consultant's post?" I ask as we walk away.

"Hell, no; I'm not _that_ evolved."

XXX

It's twilight, and I find her on the patio at Barney's. The bar is on a hill, with a nice view of the bridge and the Bay.

"All right?" I ask as I slip my arms around her. She settles back against my chest and relaxes. "Fine; it's just hard to talk with people who are many, many drinks ahead of me."

"I suppose it would be unfair to whip them all at pool." That makes her laugh out loud.

We're quiet for a moment. "Thank you," she finally says. "For demanding that I get out of my own way. You're right, I was the one to give that speech. I was too angry to see that for awhile."

"Well," I say, pulling her closer, "I still don't blame you for being angry; but I've learned … no, I'm _learning_ that you can't let it define you."

"It's going to be a slow process," she says. "That's all right," I reply. "I'm here to help."

She sighs. "Eighteen months ago, who would have thought we'd be talking about research papers and presentations and a Captain Proton series? We've come a long way."

"Have you forgotten that there wasn't an 'us' eighteen months ago?"

She turns to face me. "That hardly seems possible … it seems like you and Miral have always been a part of my life.

I grin like a fool. "And I hope we always will be. As for the rest, it's a start."

"A start?"

"Oh, I definitely like where we are now. Just saying that life can always hand us another surprise … or opportunity." Personally, I'm wondering what's behind that reporter's odd question.

"Or a kick in the teeth?" she asks lightly. I frown and she just smiles and punches my shoulder. "I know … the adventure continues."

I snort. "Captain Proton will return next week," I say in my most theatrical voice, which breaks up both of us.

I lean in and kiss her, and it's sweet and gentle, and not for the first time … it feels like home.

"Ready to go?" she asks, and I can see the glint of desire in her eyes.

"Absolutely."

"Should we say goodbye?"

"Nah," I say as I take her hand and move toward the gate. "They'll be fine."


End file.
